


The Space They Need

by sleepingseeker



Category: Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles (TV 2012)
Genre: Brothers, Bubble Bath, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Family Feels, Gen, Grief/Mourning, Humor, Outer Space, coping with loss, fugitoid - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-08
Updated: 2015-11-08
Packaged: 2018-04-30 17:01:34
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,572
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5172191
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sleepingseeker/pseuds/sleepingseeker
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Inspired by today’s episode, The Weird World of Wyrm. So if you haven’t seen it yet, don’t read it just yet. Not really spoilery, but I don’t want to ruin the episode for anyone.</p><p>Summary: Leo is enchanted, Donnie and April are, too. Raph is bored and Casey is too invested in bubbles. But where is Mikey and what is he doing in the holodeck? The answer is nothing any of the brothers would have guessed.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Space They Need

##  *****************

_“I hear your voice_

_and it seems_

_as if it was all a dream._

_I wish it was all a dream.”_  – Another Story, The Head and the Heart

 *******************

Leonardo gazed out through the wide span of bay windows. Before him, a tumbling galaxy twisted in amber around a collection of stars, all of them different hues of green, gold and blue. The universe’s expanse stretched beyond him in all its silence and mystery. It was simply majestic. Imposing and glorious.

He took it in, breathing deep and slow, a kind of meditation in its own way, the wonder filling his heart with a strange sense of gratitude. Maybe it was joy. But his mind was at ease just looking out into that vast unexplored beauty. Here he stood, how was it even real? Like a half-dreamt hope fulfilled beyond imagination.

He could stand there all day. At peace in this impossible, magnificent space.

Behind him, nestled in one control pod, Donatello and April toyed with the various controls. Murmuring gleefully and cutting each other’s sentences off, bumping elbows and knocking each other’s hands away from buttons and switches. Both happily oblivious to everyone else in the room. Oblivious to their own proximity. Blinded by the heady excitement of so much tech to learn and play with.

Space was an answer to an insatiable inquisitiveness.

Fugitoid stood over their shoulder, ready to assist in any capacity, often beeping and blurping between offering explanations about the various implements that were controlled from that particular pod. Occasionally pleading for them not to press certain buttons lest they all die in an oxygen-depleted fiery spiraling of death.

Neither heard a word he said.

Raphael entered, roused from a boring stint of flipping through maintenance logs and thick manuals in the hopes of finding something, _anything,_  of interest. He strode forward, stretching one arm out and across his chest, pulling with the opposite hand, feeling lethargic and grumpy.

Still uncomfortable with the whole out-in-space situation, his expression held a taut wariness, bordering on a constant paranoia. His distrust of the ship’s capacity to keep them all alive only slightly dimmed by the curiosity and thrill of the holodeck they’d just discovered on board.

A bit of fighting was just what he needed to chase away the dullness of the afternoon. Or was it morning? It was hard to know.

Space was stupid. And weird. And boring.

“Anyone up for a little ninja-squashing action up in the simulator?” he asked.

He glanced around, waiting for an answer. He ambled down to stand next to the Fugitoid.

“Uh, hello?” he asked and flicked the back of Donatello’s head.

“Cut it out, Raph,” he replied, swiping the air in the general direction of where he thought Raph stood. “That’s the temperature control for this room, April. I’m sure of it.”

“Nope,” April said, pushing a switch in the down position. The ship skipped slightly to one side and juttered before righting itself and speeding ahead. “Starboard engine optimization, just like I told you.”

“Ohho. You’re good, O’Neil,” Donnie said with an appreciative grin.

She matched his smile and their eyes locked. For an instant, they gazed affectionately at one another. Close enough to kiss had either of them thought of it. Immediately, they turned in unison back to the controls, pressing and switching them with renewed vigor.

“Careful! That will jettison precious-,” Fugitoid bleeped in irritation. “Oh dear. We’ll have to pick more protein paste at our next port, then.”

Raphael crossed his arms and huffed.

Sensing his discomfort, Fugitoid turned to Raph. “Perhaps you might wish to join Casey Jones. I believe he is currently in the anti-gravity lavatory chamber.”

“What?” Raph asked, surprised. “Still? It’s been like, two hours.”

“Apparently, he enjoys bubble baths in zero gravity. Despite my constant reminders to the contrary, he has the entire chamber filled to capacity. Something you might find enjoyable?”

“Huh!?” Raph’s cheeks colored. Emphatically waving his hands out, he said, “Not interested.”

“Very well. Then, I would suggest joining Michelangelo. He is currently in simulation.”

Raph did a double take. Above them, Leonardo turned. He blinked. “Mikey didn’t say anything about going in. It’s safe, isn’t it, Fugitoid?”

“Well, naturally,  _bleep_.” Fugitoid went on, “I would never allow anything dangerous on board. That is, aside from you four, then again, I suppose that is a matter of perception.”

Raph shook his head. “I’ll see what the knucklehead’s gotten himself into.”

“I’m sure he’s doing something harmless.” Leonardo climbed down and moved to follow. “Probably made up some weird candy to play with, like-like jellybean bears.”

Raph glared at him with undisguised disgust. “Those are real. They’re called gummy-bears, Leo, for crying out loud.”

Leo ignored him and shrugged.

April glanced up. “Oh hey, if you’re going to the holodeck, I’d like to try a new kata I’ve been working on. I just need to program some balance-beams.”

This made Leo pause, brows raised.

Donatello started. “I’d love to see it,” he practically purred.

Raphael rolled his eyes and the four of them left the Fugitoid to reconfiguring the vacated control panel. He pounced on the empty pod, rounded fingers flying at the switchboard. “Oh dear,  _blorp_. Oh my. Oh dear my.  _Beep_.”

Through the hallway, the group made bets on Michelangelo’s simulation. The closer they came, the wilder the suggestions became.

“No, wait.” Raph laughed, “A pyramid of rainbow-colored worms waterskiing.”

“It’s got to be food related,” Donatello insisted. “I’m going with a talking chimichanga that he’s befriended and named something completely non-sensical.”

Leo chuckled and shook his head. “I’m with Donnie on this one.”

April pressed the button and the door spiraled open, revealing the wide-windowed observation deck. She stepped inside only to stop dead. They filed in behind her, lining up alongside, all of them coming to a stuttering halt, each falling silent and still.

Below, laid out in perfect detail, was the living room of the lair. It was all there. In painfully rendered realism. From the tire-swing to the beat-up couch and empty pizza boxes littering the corner, from the remote to the television stand propped by the assortment of chemistry books, from the crack that looked vaguely like a silhouette of a cowboy to the tree twisting up through the center of the room, reaching for the life-giving beams of golden sunlight streaming through the bars of the vent above. Their eyes each scanned the room, only to find the tree, following the lines of its trunk down to the dappled scene at the base.

There Splinter sat, cross legged. His head was bowed. In his arms, he cradled Michelangelo. Arms wrapped securely around the young mutant whose face was buried in the all-to-real downy fur of their father.

Raphael made a strangled sound, it might have been his brother’s name, but emotions mangled any coherency.

The noise brought Michelangelo’s face up, startled, streaked with tears. He sniffed and spotted them. “Hey, bros,” he said, voice cracking.

Splinter, the simulated version of him, the impossibly real-looking image made of light and memories programmed into a machine, raised his head. His large amber eyes stared out at them. Ears pricked and alert, whiskers thrumming as his nose tested the air.

Splinter. Looking too real, too terribly real.

Leonardo choked. He broke, rushing through the opening and down, hesitating at the last second, just out of reach. He was immediately followed by Donatello and Raphael, then, more slowly, April.

They ringed the youngest and the three-dimensional figure of their deceased father. Their stances rigid. Unsure. Frightened. Filled with an unspeakable sorrow.

Splinter turned his head and gazed curiously at each of them in turn.  But said nothing.

The moment stretched. Contorted.

And still he said nothing.

Nothing.

A tiny mew creeped from the back of his throat as Leo reached out only to stop himself, closing his hand to a shaking fist and dropping it to his side. Raph, trembling all over, closed his eyes, hunching his shoulders as if to brace against the pain. Donatello gaped, slightly shaking his head in denial.

He flinched as April took his hand in hers, squeezing firmly, but gently. He managed to pull his gaze away to look to her, finding solace in her sympathy, some tender relief in her compassion.

Mikey rubbed one eye. “I’m sorry,” he croaked.

They all looked at him.

“I-I just wanted …” his voice broke off in a choked sob.

Splinter, looking concerned, stroked the top of his head. Mikey composed himself as quickly as he could, wanting to explain. Wanting them to understand and not be mad.

“I needed … I just needed to hear his voice again. But,” he sniffled, looking around helplessly, eyes huge and glassy, spilling over with fresh tears, whispering, “I couldn’t think of what he’d say to us. I couldn’t … I can’t -”

Leonardo dropped. He wrapped one arm around Mikey, the other, slowly, going around the back of the simulation of his father. Raphael fell to his knees, wrapping Mikey and Leo’s arm with both of his. Donatello followed suit, stepping around to the other side, to hold them all as best he could.

Softly, the muffled sound of children crying filled the air.

April stood awkwardly by. She wiped at her cheeks, finding them wet. Eyes wide, she looked away, and then quietly stepped from the holodeck, closing the door without a sound, giving them the space they needed.

 ^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^


End file.
